


Boulevard Boy

by HighlyProblematic



Category: The Lorax (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, M/M, they´re both dorks and I adore them bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyProblematic/pseuds/HighlyProblematic
Summary: Mr. Greed can´t get his mind off of a certain street musician.
Relationships: The Greed-ler/The Once-ler (The Lorax)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66





	Boulevard Boy

There he was again. Same place, at the usual time, and just as infuriatingly captivating as always.

Mr. Greed shuffled in his seat, tilting his head a little to get a better view of him, trying to do so in a way that wasn´t too obvious- then, right away, wondered what he was trying to be so inconspicuous for. Nothing strange about his behavior, not one bit. Still, what if the other were to notice his stares? It would be awkward, wouldn´t it?

He put a stop to this train of thoughts, as to not have the same internal conversation he´s already had several times the last few days. This has been going for far too long, and God, it was getting embarrassing. All this inner turmoil, because of what?

Because of some guy with a shabby old guitar.

He had just appeared one day; infiltrating Mr. Greed´s territory and stealing his inner peace. Before that, the idyllic boulevard with its cozy benches and rows of trees that provided shade during sunny days was his place of refuge. Here, he found the peace of mind he was often denied as businessman climbing up the career ladder, which is why he visited it whenever he could during his breaks. He didn´t enjoy spending that precious time among his colleagues and employees, since they were always up for idle chatter which took away from his much-needed relaxation. And so, he grew into the habit of having his lunch beneath the beeches, watching as people went about their daily lives and doves fought over crumbs of bread on the ground.

Then, about two months or so ago, there was a change in scenery. A young man appeared, playing and singing songs to passerby for pocket change. Street performers could often be seen at that place, but this one caught the businessman’s attention. Why, he couldn´t tell, as nothing about the man seemed particularly striking at first. Cheap and plain clothes that were often of poor taste- heavens, who in their right mind still wore a trilby in this day and age? A face pretty but not too memorable, a body too bony for Greed´s taste. A voice that was pleasant to listen to, but probably wouldn´t go down in music history. And yet, Mr. Greed could not take his eyes off of him whenever he graced the boulevard with his presence, froze in anticipation every time the man drew breath in-between songs, got hypnotized by the way his slender fingers danced over the strings of his instrument. Eventually memorized the days and times of the week the man came out to sing, leaving his workplace in a hurry as to not miss him.

It all felt terribly odd to him. Greed wasn´t one for love at first sight; in fact, he wasn´t one for love at all. Both because of his impossibly high-standards no one seemed to be able to fulfill, and because he was of the opinion that his job was too time-consuming for such pleasures. Partners always turned out to be more trouble than they were worth, and he had often been told that he was insensitive and unromantic, so at one point, he had stopped bothering. Where, then, did these fantasies come from, of fleeting touches and saccharine whisperings that followed him from the early morning hours all the way into the night, when he lay awake in his lonely bed? He would try to get his mind off of them, yet like particularly annoying bugs, they´d always come back to swarm him.

Disgruntled, Mr. Greed convinced himself that it was just a phase he was going through, a sudden need for intimacy born from lower instincts that would pass as quickly as a common cold. That belief was shattered the very next day, when the performer appeared again, carrying a violin this time, and gave the best damn performance of Lili Marleen he´s ever heard. Awestruck, he froze in place, eyes glued to the man´s lips as his jaded expression grew uncharacteristically soft and his heart fluttered along to each note emitted by the instrument. There suddenly was that overwhelming desire to get closer, just marveling from afar not being enough anymore. He felt the need to map every inch of the other´s face, get near enough to bathe in the warmth of his blush and have his lashes brush against his cheek.

When that feeling became too much, Greed abruptly got up, body acting by itself. However, he completely disregarded the cup of coffee he had placed onto his lap before, which fell down and almost splattered its contents all over a woman that was passing by at that moment. She managed to jump aside just in time to not get drenched in the hot drink, and gave the businessman a deadly glare, hissing a furious _watch it_ before taking off, ignoring all of Greed´s attempted apologies. He looked down to find that the legs of his slacks and tips of his shoes were covered in coffee, which made him snap out of his trance and swear profusely as he tried to clean if off with some tissues, only smearing it further over the expensive material as a result. He had to go home to change that day, coming back late for work.

Even that experience did not keep him from watching the street performer closely, always keeping a safe distance at first, eventually allowing himself to go near to tip the man a few dollar bills for his performance. In that short moment, he tried to capture him as best as he could, noticing the tiny freckles that sprawled over his cheeks like stars, eyes that reminded him of the forget me-nots-that used to bloom by his childhood home, lips that curved into a small, grateful smile…

The businessman felt himself heat up, unsure whether it was from the warm summer air or the flush that appeared on his face. He left in a hurry, feeling like a fool, yet overtaken by a deep delight that lasted throughout the entire day and the morning after.

From then on, Mr. Greed would throw money into the man´s open guitar case whenever he performed, just so he could walk by him again and steal another glance at that sweet face he had ironically thought of as forgettable not too long ago. Promising himself that it would be the last time, yet always coming back for more. After all, why shouldn´t he? He did enjoy the music, and the singer looked like he could use the cash. Greed thought about how he´d use it to buy himself a particularly fine meal at a nice restaurant, or a new set of clothes, maybe it would help him pay for rent, keep a roof over his head for another month… perhaps, when making those purchases, he´d even think of the generous businessman who provided him with that money.

Rather than ponder about it, Greed could, of course, just drop the charade and talk to the handsome singer. But what was he even supposed to say? “Good day, stranger. Recently, I´ve been having extensive fantasies about running away with you to rural France and moving into a small cottage, where I will proceed to worship and make love to you until late into the night, then wake up every morning to the sight of you sitting wistfully by the windowsill in nothing but an oversized button-up. Oh, and I also think your singing is neat.”

No, even if he were to come up with something tamer, he´d just make himself look ridiculous. The stranger would look him in the eye, probably with an awkward smile, and politely tell him to get lost. He´d say something like…

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Greed almost jumped a little, turning his head. Without him noticing, someone had taken a seat next to him, and he was suddenly looking into a pair of light-blue eyes. Dumbfounded, he stared at the stranger in silence- his mind taking a while to process the fact that it was none other than the singer he had come to adore so much. And while he was busy sorting his thoughts to get a grip on the situation, the other just smiled, lifting his hand and giving a small wave.

“Hi there.”

Once he managed to overcome the initial shock, Greed immediately sat up straight, hands running over the creases in his jacket to flatten them. After spending a moment sitting with his mouth open like a fish out of water, he finally managed to gain some control over his voice, and the first thing he could blurt out, in the same tone he used with his customers and sponsors:

“Good day. How may I help you?”

At that, the stranger laughed. It was soft and warm, just like his entire presence, and it sounded shockingly close to how Mr. Greed had imagined it would in his many daydreams, making him want to die of embarrassment a little less and his heart pound a little more.

“No need to be so formal,” the musician said. “I´ve just noticed that you listen to my playing a lot. And, well-“

He lowered his gaze a little, scratching the back of his neck.

“I´m grateful that you like it so much, really. But… all that money, I can´t accept it, I´m sorry.”

Greed blinked a few times, not knowing what to say.

“I mean, I´ve earned 250 dollars this month. From you alone.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“And I´d like to give it back to you, because I couldn´t look at it without feeling guilty. Sure, I want to earn a little with playing music, but this is more than I can keep with a clear conscience. So, please…”

The man reached for his pocket, retrieving a bunch of dollar bills that were being held together by a rubber band, and handed them to Mr. Greed.

“I´ll be too busy to perform here anymore, for a long time, at least. Thank you for being such a great listener. As weird as that sounds, it actually meant a lot to me.”

The way he said it, with a smile humble yet genuine, made the businessman feel like he would melt on spot. Breaking out of his stupor, he gently yet firmly pushed the other´s hand back, shaking his head.

“Keep it. If gave it to you, it means that I thought your performing to be worth the money,” he retorted, feeling himself getting a little light-headed from the softness of the other´s skin. A little quieter, he added: “See it also as me paying off my guilt for having terribly embarrassing romantic thoughts about you for an uncomfortably long time despite not even knowing your name.”

Greed watched the stranger´s expression change rapidly after that blunt confession; from shock to thoughtfulness to realization, until finally, the corners of his rosy lips curled upwards into a smile once more, and his eyes narrowed in a playful manner, a curious glint behind them.

“I see. But if that´s the case… perhaps my most generous benefactor would like to get to know me a little better? If he has the time, that is.”

The businessman´s response sounded like a mix between actual words and useless stuttering, and when the other, chuckling, asked him for something to write with, he patted his upper body all over, like a man being attacked by ants. Finally, Greed found a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to the musician. He wordlessly allowed the other to lean over forward and lift the sleeve of his jacket, watched as the singer wrote down his phone number on the underside of his arm, the tip of the pen tickling his skin a little. Inhaled a bit of the faintly sweet scent emanating from the man´s moppy black hair, and took notice of the daintiness of his slightly calloused fingers.

“I gotta go now,” the singer said, interrupting Greed´s observation, “Call me tomorrow evening, I´ll be free. Try not to lose that arm with my number on in until then. Name´s Once-ler, by the way, pleased to meet you.”

He handed the pen back to its owner, got up quickly to readjust the guitar case on his back- and off he went. Mr. Greed noticed the bundle of money that was still lying on the bench, rather than in the singer´s wallet like it was supposed to. He called after him; but Once-ler just turned his head, smirking cheekily.

“Hold on to those bills! Keep them for later, my tastes in drinks and coffee shops are pretty expensive.”

Laughing, the musician disappeared behind a corner. And Mr. Greed himself couldn´t help but smile as he leaned back, enjoying the view of the clear summer sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I know I´ve already used the idea of Once being a street performer in a different fic, but I thought the idea was cute, I just had to write it...


End file.
